


They Live Inside Us (And Sometimes They Win)

by DelektorskiChick



Series: Pushing the Limit [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Again, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Caning, Clint Needs a Hug, Cuddling, Hickeys, Multi, NO sense of order for these, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Smut, Suspension, Switch!Bucky, TW: Mentions of Child Abuse, TW: abuse flashback, TW: cigarette play, Temperature Play, crygasm, dom!Natasha, oops I plotted, ropes, sub!clint, use of safeword
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelektorskiChick/pseuds/DelektorskiChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve played with electricity, they’ve played with cold (but not too much; cryofreeze kind’ve takes the fun out of that) and now Natasha wants to see how her boys do with heat. And one of her boys has a rather bad reaction to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Barton

**Author's Note:**

> Also Known As: The One Where Clint has to use His Safeword.  
> It is my firm headcanon that Clint’s abusive asshole father smoked. You do the math. Clint had a really shitty childhood, and now it’s coming back to bite him in the ass. Not in the good way either.  
> Title is the second half of a quote by Stephen King. The full quote is “Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”

Clint loved it when Natasha suspended him. It wasn’t something that they could do often; the risk to his shoulders and arms was too great. But every once in a while the risk was definitely worth the reward.

This was going to be one of the days that Clint loved best. It was raining so hard that you’d have to be nuts to go out in it, so most everyone found things to do indoors. And one of Natasha’s favorite things to do indoors was Clint.

Also, barring some sort of alien invasion (again), technically the team was on vacation. That meant that Bucky was there too.

So Clint was hanging from the ceiling, his toes just brushing the ground if he _really_ stretched. God, the burn in his shoulders was so _good_. And yeah, he grew up in a circus, he could flip himself upside down and climb to the rafters and untie himself if he _really_ wanted to, but he didn’t want to. He really just wished he could hang here all the time.

Today was going to be a good day even if he wasn’t allowed to come. Today, Natasha was finishing his punishment for outing Bucky on the quinjet two days ago. Speaking of…

Where the hell _was_ Bucky? Nat had left him in the room when she’d stepped out, he knew that, but where-

Oh, _hell_ -o. There he was. A cool metal hand had come out of nowhere and given a couple of pulls on his cock, just to keep him hard and keep him interested.

Apparently, Natasha had left him standing behind Clint. He really couldn’t tell right now. The thing about being rigged to suspend from his wrists like this was that he had no control of his orientation or motion. He was literally left to twist in the wind; there only as something for Natasha to hit. It was like he was some sort of giant, naked piñata. And as cheesy as that was, that was honestly something he was _entirely_ ok with.

Right about then in his musings, Clint realized that something was different, something was wrong. Something was painful, and he wasn’t entirely sure that it was in a good way.

His cock was on _fire_.

Natasha’s low laugh told him that one; she’d finally reentered the room, and two, that this was somehow all her doing.

“I thought that birds were insensitive to Capsaicin- guess I was wrong.” She gave him the tiniest of pushes, just barely enough to set him spinning. He turned enough that he could see Bucky rinsing his metal hand in the bathroom. “The burning will stop soon, but by then you won’t be able to feel anything. Not a chance in hell of you coming accidentally tonight.”

Clint whimpered as the burn- good god, the _burn_ \- began to spread _inside_ his cock. For a moment, he thought for sure that he was going to pass out. But then the numbing started, in a reverse pins and needles kind of way. And then…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It felt like his dick had just… fallen off.

Clint managed to get his head forward far enough between his arms to look down and yeah, junior was still attached, still rock hard, but he couldn’t feel a thing. Not even when Natasha reached over and slapped a gloved palm against it.

“Now you still owe me ten strokes. Do you want those first, cunt? Or would you rather have your surprise first?”

Damn, this woman liked to keep him on his toes. And in this case, that was both literal and figurative. So Clint decided that he was going to try and _not_ be a brat today. He went with the only safe answer.

“I think Bucky should decide, ma’am.” He winced internally, because even with Bucky’s serum, snapping his head around like that had to hurt. “I outed him. I hurt him. He should get to choose what happens to me.”

Natasha’s hand was on his chin then, forcing him to look at her.

“Is that really what you want, whore? The good boy deciding your fate?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She released his face, and as he began to spin once more, Clint heard Natasha speak.

“What do you think, дорогой? You know what his surprise is. Pain or punishment first?”

“Punishment, ma’am. He likes pain too much.”

“Very well. Hold his feet; keep him from spinning.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Moments later, Bucky was kneeling at Clint’s feet, a firm grip forming around his ankles. He heard Natasha swing her crop back and forth through the air, and Clint couldn’t help the whine that rose in the back of his throat.

“You’ve earned ten stripes, slut. Count them and thank me after each.”

Then the braided leather smashed into his ass before Clint even had a breath to think.

“One; thank you ma’am.”

“Good. Keep going.”

He made it through all of his lashes, panting and groaning as the weight of Bucky on his legs and his little jerks with each hit pulled more and more on his shoulders. When she was finished, Natasha rested a hand on his ass. Clint relaxed into her soothing touch (‘cause she’d never actually hit him there with an open hand) but mere moments later he started struggling and swearing, pulling on his shoulders even more.

“We’re going to be playing with heat today, whore. You’ve already seen what Capsaicin oil does topically when we applied it to your pathetic little prick, but now you’re feeling what it does when it’s applied to welts.”

Tears were forming in the corners of Clint’s eyes as Bucky released his legs and stood in front of him.

“May I kiss him ma’am? He looks so pretty when he starts to cry…”

“You must use your teeth, дорогой. It’s pleasure _through_ pain only, today.”

Clint moaned when Bucky started nipping at his jaw. His metal hand came up and was wrapped around Clint’s throat. It forced him to breathe more raggedly than he already was, given the pain and the position of his arms.

Bucky’s distractions were probably why Clint missed the sound and even the smell of the match striking. He didn’t know that Natasha had lit a cigarette until the burning end had touched down on the point of his right hip. _That_ was a sensation. He groaned as the Capsaicin that Bucky had missed during his washing started burning his throat. It was painful and agonizing and _wonderful_ but something was… off. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Then Natasha’s cigarette landed on his left hip, and suddenly Clint knew what it was.

_He was five years old again and his daddy was drunk, but not drunk enough._

Clint couldn’t get enough air, and it had nothing to do with Bucky choking him or the way he was suspended.

_Please daddy, please be too drunk to notice the porch railing…_

_“Boy! Ge’ over here!”_

_“Yes daddy?”_

_“Di’ you bust out the railin’ on this porch?”_

Five year old Clint hung his head and forty year old Clint couldn’t hold back a sob. Lying only made life worse.

“S-sorry-”

_“Yes daddy, I’m sorry-”_

_“Sorry ain’t good enough,_ you little bitch _!”_

“Sorry won’t cut it this time, _you little bitch_.”

Clint flinched as Natasha’s voice and the voice of the demon from his past overlapped.

_“You’ve any idea how much this is gonna cost me to fix? I oughtta tan your hide…”_

_And Clint knew he needed to run, but his daddy was so much bigger, so much faster…_

Was Natasha even using the same brand? It smelled like it.

_“You’re gonna get a whuppin’ like you ain’t never had before, boy, you don’t get over here this minute!”_

Both young and old Clint were crying, now.

“I’m sorry, let me fix it, please…”

_“I’m sorry! I’ll fix it! Please, no-!”_

As the cigarette came down again, this time at the base of this spine, Clint tried to cry out, no sound leaving his throat. He tried for one word, just two syllables that he hoped could make this nightmare _end_. And he must have managed it, because the burning embers didn’t touch him again. There was just a flurry of movement and action, but then his _daddy was standing over him again, and oh god no please don’t do this nonononononoNONONONONONONO!_

His voice just crackled and broke as he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian (Cyrillic) - English Glossary  
> дорогой – dorogoy – my darling


	2. Natasha

Natasha’s stomach dropped when she heard Clint’s broken voice crack as he attempted to scream; a scream that resolved itself into his safeword.

“Дрисня! James, get me a knife.” The soldier froze for half a second. He knew that knives weren’t on the table; that was one of Clint’s hard limits. Too many bad guys liked knives.

“Пиздуи, James!” Was all it took and he was off.

Clint was sobbing, hyperventilating, and ҕоже мой this was a full blown panic attack.

Then Barnes was back and thank god he’d snapped out of his subspace, because he was the only one tall enough to cut Clint down without hurting him further. Hurting him physically, at least, because the choked off screaming noises he was making got louder and ripped at Natasha’s gut.

“Start the shower.” She snapped out. “Hot, not cold.”

“Isn’t heat what got him here? Made this happen?”

“Yes, but his dad used to make him take freezing cold showers. And I think it’s his dad that triggered him in the first place.”

“Чёрт возьми.”

“Yeah. Shower please, James?”

“On it.”

Clint was curled into a ball as best as he could with his hands still tied together. Natasha had her arms wrapped around him. She was touching as much of him as she could, trying to ground him. She was still fumbling with the knots when the shower came on and Bucky was back.

“You’re going to have to carry him. And I’ll warn you now, he’s going to fight you.”

“I’ll be okay, Natasha. You just get in there first to hold him again.”

She nodded, not expecting anything less from him. But the noise that came out of Clint when she stopped touching him and Bucky picked him up both broke her heart and made her want to throw up at the same time.

“No! I promise, I’ll fix it, I’ll be good!”

Natasha was grateful when she got into the steaming shower. It hid the tears streaming down her face. She sat directly under the hot spray and rewrapped her arms around a shaking Clint when Bucky deposited him in her lap.

He screamed from his gut when Bucky stood.

“No daddy, don’t! Please, I swear I’ll fix it!” and he raised his arms as if to shield himself from a blow.

God, she wasn’t the only one crying.

“Come here, sit behind me. He needs to be able to see your face clearly. Your shadow keeps making him think that you’re his dad.”

“Please tell me that for the love of god the падла isn’t still alive.”

“Long gone. Car crash when he and his brother were just kids.”

“Goddamn. Wish I’d have done it.”

“So does Clint.”

Natasha had one arm wrapped around Clint’s torso, the other held his head to her chest. She rubbed his head gently as she rocked back and forth, trying desperately to center him.

Dear god, she hoped that she never had to do this again.

Gradually Clint’s shudders eased from almost constant to once every few minutes. His breathing evened out, and muscles that had been tightly clenched eased their strain.

Natasha never thought she’d praise Stark for anything, but his endless supply of hot water was an exception that she was willing to make. Anywhere else, and the water would have been ice cold long before the time Clint was starting to feel better.

“It was the cigarette.”

His voice was like sandpaper, hoarse from screaming.

“We kind of figured that out, sweetie.”

“My daddy always said he only smoked when he drank, but since he drank all the time it didn’t really matter. Sometimes he’d be too drunk to take his belt off properly.”

Realization dawned in Bucky’s voice as another of Clint’s hard limits was explained. “Which is why Natasha only ever uses a crop when she’s behind you.”

“Yeah.” Natasha pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead as one of the now infrequent shudders tore through him. Bucky laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He might not have been able to manage a belt buckle or reach a spoon, but he could always manage a match. He’d burn us if we misbehaved or disturbed him. Me more so than my brother. I was too young, too slow…”

Clint’s breath hitched again, and this time Natasha kissed his lips, slowly and gently, letting him breathe with her. Bucky kept rubbing his back, tying him back down to the present.

Then James started talking. Just stories he remembered in pieces about scrapes he and Steve had gotten into when they were kids, about how his little sister always tried to convince him that she’d really beaten him at games he’d let her win. His voice was rough with the decades, but it managed to halt Clint’s shudders as Natasha kept kissing him, their mouths open, breathing in tandem.

She hated to see one of her boys hurting so much. It _killed_ her that the things she did to them, things that they asked for, needed, could do things like this if they weren’t extremely careful. She wished that she could take all of this emotional pain from Clint, from James, cast it back upon the ones that hurt them like this. Maybe then things could be right in the world.

But they weren’t. So Natasha and her boys huddled together in the wet heat of the shower, willing the demons away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian (Cyrillic) - English Glossary  
> Дрисня! – Shit!  
> Пиздуи – Move your ass  
> ҕоже мой – bozhe moy – oh my god  
> Чёрт возьми – Goddammit  
> Падла – bastard


	3. Barnes

Clint finally stopped shivering and Natasha nodded to Bucky. He got up, turned off the shower, and then got the biggest, fluffiest towel that he could find and wrapped it around Clint. He carried the man as one would a bride, one arm behind his back and the other under his knees, out of the bathroom and over to the bed. As he went to put him down, however, Clint wrapped an arm around his neck.

“Don’t. Don’t go. Please. Just hold me for a minute…?”

The need in his voice clawed at something deep down in Bucky’s gut.

“Anything you need, Clint. Anything at all.”

So Bucky sat his soaking ass down on the bed, hair sticking to his face and neck, and held Clint like he would a frightened child, the way his mom had held him when he’d had nightmares as a kid. Except when his mom had kissed him, there hadn’t been any tongue. Bucky sat bolt upright.

“Whoa, Clint, slow down a sec-”

“Please.” The tone of his voice twisted the talons. “Everything tastes like ash. Everything except for you and Nat. Please, James…”

Bucky couldn’t refuse him, not when he was using his name, his birth name, so plaintively.

“C’mhere, Clint. I’ve got you.” He murmured.

They fastened their mouths back together, and then Clint was up and turning in his arms and the towel fell away-

Oo-kay. So that’s what he was really after, what he needed. Clint held their cocks together with one hand as he draped his other arm over Bucky’s shoulder. He twisted his hand gently up and down as Bucky laved at his mouth, trying to burn the taste of ash and soot away.

“More,” he said, breaking the kiss. “I need mo- ahh!” Clint grimaced, but kept moving the hand he had on himself and Bucky, and slowly the wince faded as Natasha spoke.

“I’ve got you honey.” Her voice floated up from where she was sitting behind Clint’s back, and now Bucky could feel her slicking Clint up. “ _We’ve_ got you. Just relax.”

“Love you, Tasha.” Clint breathed.

“I love you too, Clint.” And then Bucky’s mouth was back on Clint’s. He swallowed all of the small, broken noises Clint was making, kissed away his tears.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Clint was outright panting into Bucky’s mouth. As he ran a hand up Clint’s back, Bucky could feel Natasha leave a trail of kisses in his wake.

“You should be able to take him now, if you want.”

Clint nodded as he moved his lips away from Bucky’s consuming mouth and he moved down Clint’s neck. “Please.”

“Can you turn around and do it? There’s something that I need to do.” And Natasha’s voice was cracking too, breaking as she asked for permission.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

“James, could you move him to the side of the bed?”

“Of course, воительница.” He scooted the two of them to the edge of the bed and then turned Clint to face out into the rest of the room, to face Natasha. His eyes nearly crossed as he slid carefully into Barton’s hot, slick ass. Once he could see clearly again, he thrust up carefully, kissing and mouthing, marking the place where strong shoulder met neck.

Clint shuddered around him and Bucky looked down at a sight that he wouldn’t forget for a long, long time.

Natasha was on her knees – on her knees! –in front of them, left hand intertwined with Clint’s, the other lightly wrapped around his cock, helping her to swallow him down. Bucky felt the vibrations of her throat _through_ Clint, and was not at all shocked when the man moaned. She came off of him, panting slightly, searching Clint’s face.

“I am so sorry, Clint. Never again. I’ll always ask before I try something new. I am so, so sorry sweetie…” and as she took him in her mouth again, Bucky swore he could see the love the two had for one another move in a physical arc between their gazes.

“’Tash, ‘Tasha, babe, come here.” And Bucky felt like some sort of voyeur as Clint raised Natasha up into a kiss. “It’s okay, honey, you didn’t know. Hell, _I_ didn’t remember it until after.” He said between breaths, still fucking back onto Bucky’s cock the entire time. And shit, Natasha was crying too, even as she straddled the both of them and slid down onto Clint’s dick. “I promise, from now on, you’ll know everything, _anything_ that could set me off like that again.”

And Bucky thrust upwards, hard, driving himself deeper into Clint and driving _him_ further into Natasha. He wrapped the flesh fingers of his right hand around where their fingers were twined together, placing his metal hand on the bed behind himself to get the leverage he needed to continue thrusting up. Clint must have used his free hand on Natasha’s clit, because she moaned through the kiss Barton was currently submitting her to. Natasha’s other hand cradled Bucky’s head where it was still attached to Clint’s neck, sucking on him, bruising him, marking him as loved.

“’Tasha,” Clint spoke, moving his lips and not much else, leaving his forehead pressed to hers. “’Tasha please, I’m gonna come. Please babe, come with me. I’m so full; it’s too much, I can’t-”

“I’ve got you, sweetie; James does too. You can let go.”

Clint’s hips lost their pattern and he moaned as he came, clenching down on Bucky. Barnes gave some extra hard thrusts, driving Clint into a higher level of pleasure and setting off Natasha. He pulled the three of them back, turning to the side as he went, and then one, two-

He came with a groan that matched Clint’s.

By some miracle of self-preservation, he’d managed to turn them so that their interlocked hands were on top. The three of them lay that way for a while, making a Clint sandwich as the man started to really relax for the first time in over two hours. Clint’s words, when they finally came, were quiet and tired.

“Love you, ‘Tasha, Buck.”

A lump rose in Bucky’s throat. He couldn’t manage words. Natasha waited a breath, and then spoke up.

“Я тебя люблю, Clint. Sleep now, honey. We’ve got you.”

“’Kay.”

And then Clint was out, just barely snoring. Natasha lifted her head and met Bucky’s gaze.

“Thank you, James.”

“All in a day’s work, Natasha. You get some rest too. I can see you falling asleep from here.” And really, she was. He could already see her starting to drift and fighting it. “I’ll keep watch over you. You know I don’t sleep much.”

“Alright.” She actually _was_ falling asleep now, allowing her mind to drift off. And because of that, Bucky wasn’t sure if her next words were something he imagined or not, but he could have sworn he heard her say, “And Я тебя люблю too, James.”

But he was glad that he could pretend he didn’t hear her. Because as much as he liked  Clint and Natasha, as much as he loved what they did when they were together, as much as he (dare he even think it?) _loved_ them, there was really only one person that Bucky Barnes could see himself ever being _in love_ with. And that person was neither of them.

Still. He could keep watch, scare away their nightmares while they slept.

That he could do for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian (Cyrillic) - English Glossary  
> воительница – voitel’nitsa – my (female) warrior – Literally; Xena  
> Я тебя люблю – I love you


End file.
